


Warmth

by whenWinstonmetJames



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenWinstonmetJames/pseuds/whenWinstonmetJames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tiny little drabble about haircuts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little something I wanted to post as a warm-up, to see if people like it :)

Paul was warm. He was sleepy, and comfy, and warm. His back was pressed against John’s chest and John’s arms felt safe and affectionate around him. Paul nudged one of his legs back between John’s own languidly, and let out a soft sigh. Paul was warm, and pleased, and almost asleep. 

John couldn’t breathe. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. But it certainly felt that way. As much as he loved being close to Paul, and cuddling him like this, he found that trying to sleep with your face pressed to a dark mass of hair was not easy. Paul’s hair was soft, yes, and smelled good, but it was also annoyingly suffocating. John could barely breathe, his left arm was asleep from Paul’s laying on it, and John was cold.

After about five minutes of laying this way, Paul was sleeping and John was anything but. Trying to not wake his partner, John slid away from Paul and gently pulled his arm out from under his lover, feeling a pang of guilt as Paul curled up tighter at the loss. It seemed the guilt was short-lived, however, because soon John was happily rolling his shoulders and trying to get some feeling into his dead arm. Once he was satisfied, he lay down again, his thoughts only on finally getting some rest.

“. . . John? Whassup?” He was quickly knocked out of this daze by Paul’s voice, thick with sleep and heavy with worry. John cracked his eye open to look, and saw that Paul had half-rolled over and definitely only half woken up. His eyes were barely open, his hair was mussed, and there was a tiny gathering of drool at the corner of his mouth.

“Wh- why’d you go?” John’s heart simply wept at his words, and he let out a heavy sigh as he shifted closer. 

“Sorry, princess. Couldn’t breathe. You ought to think about getting a buzz cut.”

Paul’s chuckle was breathless and relieved, and he quickly snuggled close to John, laying his head on his chest and wrapping his arms around the older man, much like a child regaining a toy that had been taken from him. When he spoke again, he was muffled against John’s chest and almost inaudible. 

“Thank goodness. I thought something was wrong.”


End file.
